A Touch of Stupidity
by Ninjaholic
Summary: The Courier, the so called "Messiah" of the Mojave. The one who would eventually rule it with peace. Except for one problem, he's really slow in the mental department
1. Starting off with a bang sort of

"Can I punt it?"

"No you can't, Veronica. Now, what did I tell you?"

Veronica's face saddened "That severed heads are _not_ made for punting, Matt"

She was of course referring to a head, freshly ripped off from the body of a legionary from Caesar's legion that just happened to "walk" right into Veronica's power gloved fist. Quite the unlucky fellow.

Our favorite goody two shoes courier, who just happened to be called Matt sighed in exasperation. But relented, "Okay, okay. _But_, only for this once, alright?"

"Yeah, of course!" She nodded vigorously, handing Matt the 'ball'. "Get ready, cause this is gonna be one huuuge kick!"

"Sigh, why do you both have to act like children?" said a certain 1st recon sniper, whose tone always sounded like he personally saw a puppy _die_. "I swear, the only other mature person besides me here is Cass, and that's only when she's _sober_"

"Oh _gee_ thanks, Boone" Cass replied sarcastically, "Glad to see that one of us has that special someone to hold on to instead of booze…oh wait a sec."

"…that was a cheap shot and you know it"

"Well, _someone _here has to prove that he or she's got the balls in the group. Hint, hint, it's not you" The former caravaneer said, smirking all the while.

The "group" was in the middle of a Caesar's legion's camp, or that's what it used to be before The Courier and his merry band of misfits arrived and razed the camp to the ground. The Legionnaires stationed at the camp tried, in vain, to defend it in the glorious name of Caesar. But… machetes, spears, and small powered guns could only do so much against a raging ex military sniper, a drunken water merchant with a shotgun, a BOS scribe with an ungodly talent for punching, and a Courier with A LOT of guns. Suffice to say, the legionnaires didn't last for very long.

Cass and Boone's little spat was interrupted by a legionary head sailing right over the both of them, travelling a good kilometer before disappearing over the horizon. Followed by an excited Veronica and Courier shouting "Itsss goooooood!"

Boone sighed yet again, "Courier, why the hell did you bring me and Cass along? You could've easily taken down this camp with Veronica."

"Pfft, and have you guys miss out on slaughtering some of Caesar's boy toys?" Matt laughed, "I wouldn't hear the end of it from either of you, haha"

"Huh, the boy does have a point" Cass said thoughtfully. "That's… surprising."

"I know right!" Veronica added, "He's actually _not_ dumb as a starfish, who knew?"

"Hey, uh, guys? You know what would make making fun of someone better? When that someone isn't fucking in front of you!" Matt angrily shouted, face red with embarrassment. Which made the girls collapse in a fit of hysterics. Even Boone cracked a smile, although that _could_ do with the fact that he just murdered dozens of legionnaires in a matter of seconds. It's a 50/50 really.

"Alright, enough with the jokes about my embarrassingly low IQ count" Matt exclaimed, although still emotionally dying inside. "I've got to head back to the NCR outpost, mission accomplished and all, you guys can head back to the lucky 38."

"Whoa, whoa hold on there" Boone quickly interjected, "You sure you can handle getting there by yourself?"

"Wha-? Hell yeah I can!" The Courier yelled out, although he could see where Boone was coming from. The last time they left him alone, they found him trying to eat an active landmine, mistaking it for a pancake, good thing there was an auto-doc around cause they would never get the blood stains off of their clothes.

"One time, man! _One time_!" Matt shouted, trying to come up with something witty and ended up thinking of pie.

"Oh really? Like that time you swan dived off of the Hoover dam? What about the time you blew up one of the casinos on the strip because you were bored? Or how about when you tried to befriend a _deathclaw_!"

"… Randy" Matt sniffed tearfully, "I cry myself to sleep every night without him…"

Boone face palmed, "Know what? Fuck this! Go on ahead, you brain dead dick head!"

"Hehe, hey that rhymed" Our brainless hero giggled.

Throwing his arms up in exasperation, and possibly blood lust, Boone soon left for the Lucky 38, with Veronica and Cass hurrying along to catch up with him. Meanwhile, our mildly retarded protagonist, realizing that he was finally alone, decided to happily skip all the way to the NCR outpost. And yes, he actually _skipped_.

* * *

><p>The outpost was anything <em>but<em> a sight to behold. A simple 3 story building that was about 4 small rooms wide, its already ugly brown paint job made more so by its aged look. It housed the most bored NCR soldiers in history, or at least that's what they say. The fact that it was pretty much in the middle of nowhere where the only form of entertainment you can get is watching _other people _watch paint dry reinforces the rumor. Not that our attentive hero was paying attention, he was actually trying to catch a butterfly on the way into the building, duh.

"Nobody move!" He screamed bursting through the door. "If anyone has seen a pretty butterfly then warn me immediately, for it must DIE… hello? Anyone there?"

No one or thing answered him back, the building stayed eerily quiet. No lights, no sound, no _life_. Just complete and utter silence. It was seriously annoying The Courier.

_Okayyyy, last time I was here the place was packed._ He thought, _now it's just… dead. Hmm, my common sense is tingling. Better go scope things out._

And so he did, he checked out most of the right wing, which was mostly empty and uneventful, except for the ominous blood splattered all over the walls. But The Courier mostly just glanced at them with a shrug, saying "oh, that's new, wonder who their new interior decorator is?"… our protagonist, ladies and gentlemen. He then sweeped the left wing and was thoroughly surprised. It wasn't that was even more blood on the walls, or that there was a huge pile of NCR bodies on stacked up against a wall. It was the fact that one of those bodies was still breathing.

* * *

><p>"So… you think it was a good idea leaving him by himself?" Veronica asked out loud. Walking along with her arms behind her head with Boone and Cass.<p>

"Pfft, please. The worst thing that can happen is that he'll get gang-raped by the sex depraved NCR soldiers over there." Boone gruffly replied. Still pissed at their leader's inherent lack of brains.

"… _will_ he get gang-raped by sex depraved NCR soldiers?"

Cass casually shrugged, "Is it a Wednesday?"

"Uhh, yeah…" Veronica replied.

"Well there you go then" Cass said nonchalantly.

And the whole group happily couldn't care less.

* * *

><p>To the Courier, the mortally wounded, barely alive woman that he found in a closet might have been the most beautiful creature that his eyes have ever laid upon. It was love at first sight for him, in a <em>really<em> creepy way, considering the circumstances.

"Hey… you" she said weakly, coughing up blood. "You're the one... who promised to take down that Ceasar's legion camp… righ-?"

"Oh my god, my heart feels like there are butterflies inside of it right now." Matt excitedly, and rudely, interrupted her. "I... I must _paint_ you"

"… what?"

"It's just that, everything about you is just so gorgeous right now, except for the machete that's lodged in your stomach of course" he said happily, blissfully unaware. "But hey, no one is perfect. How'd that machete end up there anyway?"

She grunted in pain, barely mustering the strength to speak. "Legionary assassins… came looking for you just before you arrived… ugh, five of them… took down a whole garrison in minutes…"

"Wow, you look like you're in a lot of pain" The courier surprisingly observed as he injected her with a stimpak and handing her a dozen more. "Here, I've got a lot of em'. How'd you survive?"

"I… was on med-x when they attacked" she said, embarrassment in her tone. "When one stabbed me, I played dead, and managed to dragged myself to this closet while they weren't looking and passed out for a little while. Of course, until you arrived"

"Damn, that must've one hell of a wake up call, huh?"

"Well yeah, getting stabbed in the stomach tends to be uncomfortable" she joked. Despite the situation that they were both in, they laughed. Quietly, of course.

"So, I'm guessing that they're still here, right, umm, I'm sorry, what's your name?"

The soldier smiled up at him, "It's Grace, and yeah they were prowling around the place when I dragged myself in here, they still should be"

The Courier nodded and un-holstered the assault carbine that was strapped to his back. "Then I guess I'd better go finish them off. Oh and mine's Matt"

"Okay, then I'm coming with you, Matt" Grace said, trying to get up.

"No, Grace, you're wounded" he said firmly, "I've dealt with these guys before, you stay here"

"No! I want to repay you for saving my life!" she said, growing frustrated.

"Then stay here and passionately make out with me before I go" he said, smiling and filled with hope.

"… not a chance."

"Eh, worth a try" he said, before disappearing out the door and into the darkened halls of the building.


	2. Make explosions, not war

On a certain Legion occupied fort in the middle of a certain lake, a certain Roman Emperor wannabe sat on his throne, furious at the news that was being told to him… well, more furious than usual.

"Vulpes… I'm asking you one. More. Time." The certain wannabe said in a low, angry voice. "_How many_ of my well trained, deadly, able to _annihilate a small army _assassins did _He_ kill?"

For his part, the fearless leader of the frumentarii, Vulpes Inculta, was effectively shitting himself in terror. "W-well you see, oh mighty Caesar. As I said earlier, _countless _assassin squads were sent after The Cou-, erm, Him. All of them ultimately failing in their mission to slay Him in your glorious nam-"

"_How. Many. Killed?_" Caesar viciously interrupted him, grabbing the frumentarii's chestplate. Bringing both the men's faces only inches apart.

"Of c-course, oh great Caesar. A-hem, let's see here…" Vulpes slightly stuttered, slowly regaining the cool yet menacing composure that he was known, feared, and, to the frumentarii's discomfort, lusted for. Vulpes barked an order to some nearby Legion recruits to fetch the list of casualties, adding that if they didn't come back soon with the list, the slave women weren't going to be the _only_ ones who were getting mounted. Suffice to say, the recruits rushed out of Caesar's tent, grabbed the list from the intelligence tent on the other side of the camp, and flew right back into the tent in record time.

"Hmmm, eight seconds flat… you recruits can do better." Vulpes coolly remarked, putting away his trusty stop-watch for another recruit torture session later, an event that Vulpes no doubt relished. As the Frumentarii leader flipped through the list, he could not help but notice Caesar tapping his foot impatiently. A gesture that made Vulpes, as well as Caesar's Praetorian guards who stood their vigil, shift in discomfort. You do _not_ keep a man like Caesar waiting.

"Well! How many? How many of my loyal assassins died at His hand?" The all mighty Caesar finally yelled out, the pain of his brain tumor aching like… a brain tumor irritating him greatly.

To Vulpes' dismay, his stutter returned "W-well, Oh great C-Caesar. The numbers aren't too _exact_ for me to calculate-"

"What? A hundred? A thousand? How many zeros from the main number?"

"… The zeros take up the whole page…" Vulpes finally admitted, both in awe at the fact that this many squads of assassins, so many that they could have made an army or two, were so easily taken out by one man and in horror as he saw that Caesar looked like he was about to impale someone… and realized that he was the closest one in range.

_Sometimes_ Vulpes thought, _I really wish that He had killed me at Nipton…_

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, miles away from The Fort, in an isolated NCR outpost that was overrun by Legion assassins, with almost all the NCR troops stationed there dead or being raped by said assassins… possibly at the same time, a courier sneezed.<p>

_Aww great, I've got enough to worry about as it is. Now I've got a goddamn cold to put up with! _Matt thought in annoyance, _Oh well, I'm not gonna let you beat me here,_ Gonorrhea_!_

And with that obviously intelligent thought, our obviously intelligent protagonist stood up from his prone position under a nuka-cola machine and darted for the nearest door, his custom modded assault carbine cradled in his arms. Poking his head out to check if the coast was clear, Matt slowly stepped out of the VIP snack room and into the blood covered hallways of the outpost.

_Looks like the first floor's clear, which means that those dastardly assassins must be searching the second floor. _Matt thought seriously as he munched on a chocolate bar.

His thoughts were interrupted, however, by the sound of footsteps coming towards the VIP snack room. Opting to go ninja on whoever may have be unfortunate enough to get a snack at this time of night, Matt dove into a nearby room and listened in on the mystery person.

"Aww dude, this mission is _such_ a drag" A voice rang out through the halls. "Seriously, there's no hot and/or dead soldier chicks anywhere! What's a guy gotta to do to get some putang around here for Christ's sake."

From the other room, Matt narrowed his eyes in distaste, tightening his grip on his assault rifle. _Hmm, obnoxious, loud, uses the word "putang". That doesn't mean I can kill this guy… yet._

And so, Matt continued to eavesdrop on the guy. "Ugh, calm down, Steve. Just get a snack, prop up a chair, and chill till this mission's over. You'll be back in The Fort, surrounded by dozens of cute slave chicks, and Brad will be there waiting for ya… ahhhhh, Brad. Pfft, one hell of a first mission this was, ha!"

Unfortunately for Steve, who was too preoccupied with his thoughts about orgies and Brad, he didn't notice our hero stealthily creep up from behind him, holding out his rifle like a baseball bat.

"Man, I wish I was at the fort with Brad now. Plenty of slaves to have fun with… I wonder if he'd ever join me-" Steve's thought was tragically cut short as the butt of Matt's assault carbine smashed right onto the left side of Steve's head, spinning the legionnaire around. Amazingly, the helmet that was atop Steve's head managed to absorb most of the blunt of the blow, managing to keep Steve dazed, but still standing. Unfazed by this, Matt followed up with a vicious upward strike at blinding speed, managing to connect with the Legionaries' jaw and even managing to propel Steve's body upwards a couple of feet. Before it finally crashed down in a sickening thud that echoed throughout the halls.

"Sorry, noob. Don't worry, your body will get the respect that every Legion body should be treated to" Matt announced stoically as he mercilessly tea-bagged the legionary's corpse.

To Matt's utter surprise, Steve's "lifeless body" coughed. "Nghh… ah, _there_ you are… I should've known… that you were gonna show up, ugh… sooner or later…"

The fact that Steve struggled to utter every word told Matt that the assassin wasn't going to live for long. Bending down, the courier asked "Alright you, where the hell are rest of your butt buddies?"

"Pfft hahaha! The rest are upstairs…! But it won't matter; the reinforcements that Caesar sent should be here soon!" Steve manically laughed, despite the massive amount of pain that he was feeling. "Hahaha! I don't care about your reputation… You have no chance against a fucking _army_! Haha!"

"W-what? Army? Reinforcements? Butt buddies? What the hell is going on?" Matt managed to stutter, the information that was flooding his already small, crammed up head made him nauseous. But before he could question the assassin more, Steve closed his eyes forever, muttering, "I'll be waiting for you… Brad."

_Shit! Now what am I supposed to do? Oh, Randy, I wish you were here. Deathclaws _always_ know what to do! _Matt worriedly thought, panicking at his hopeless situation. In desperation, he frantically searched his backpack for anything that could take on an army- at least buy him some time to grab Grace and escape. _What do I do? What do I do? WHAT DO I DO?_

By some miracle, Matt found the answer. As he checked his backpack, he managed to find a large pile of C-4 that he kept in his backpack, along with the detonator. An idea started forming around his head as he looked around the aged building. It was a pre- war building, it wouldn't take much to demolish it.

Fortunately, The Courier knew _exactly_ what to do.

* * *

><p>"Okay, okay. How bout' this…?"<p>

"Ugh, would you give it a rest already, Veronica?" Cass groaned, "We talked about this already, Matt's going to be fine, he can take care of himself. Right, Boone?"

Boone responded by solemnly shaking his head, simply saying, "No"

The trio had managed to make it back to the Lucky 38 with no trouble, their discussion on their dim-witted leader followed suit. They were now all relaxing and playing cards on The Courier's bed. Because they knew that He _hated_ that.

Veronica, in response, crossed her arms and pouted, "I know. It's just that-"

"Look, _sure_ he failed fourth grade math while he was in high school… and pretty much every subject including common sense" Cass soothingly interrupted, "But give him a low caliber pistol and a grenade and he can take on a swarm of cazadores!"

"well yeah, but-"

"I was with him when he decided to charge at a mierlurk king to try to eat it, screaming that he 'loved sushi'…" Boone begrudgingly interjected, a hint of respect in his voice. "… he succeeded"

Annoyed, Veronica stood up on top of the bed and said rather loudly, "Okay! I freakin' get it! He's a mentally challenged god! But what if he went to the NCR outpost, found most of its soldiers slaughtered by the Legion, who had _a lot_ of reinforcements on the way, and the only thing he _could _do was rig the whole place up with explosives! He would survive, right!"

Surprised at Veronica's sudden outburst, Boone and Cass exchanged a glance.

"Not a fucking chance" the two calmly stated in unison.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, our favorite med-x using NCR soldier Grace was busy trying to stand up… for the 18th time in a row.<p>

"Grrr, stupid random ass guy, falling in love with me and abandoning me to run off and save the day…" Grace said to herself, occasionally cursing from the pain of trying to stay upright. "Seriously! Who does that!"

The thought that the only time someone actually fell in love with her was when she had a machete shoved into her gut depressed Grace. "Oh? So I'm only beautiful if there was sharp object sticking out of me? Pfft, typical, Grace, goddamn typical"

As you can see, she tends to get depressed easily.

Grace's emo thoughts were interrupted however, by Matt unceremoniously kicking down the closet door.

"Grace! My love! No time to talk, everything around us is going to get _very_ explode-y!" The Courier yelled, "We have to get out _now_!"

Before Grace could even mutter a "Whaaaaaat?" Matt picked her up bridal style and the Grace soon found herself being carried as Matt sprinted across the hallways. As they ran, they heard the main doors on the other side of the building being busted open, as well as the sounds of several footsteps as well as several voices shouting in Latin. The Legion had arrived.

"M-Matt? What's going on?" Grace asked, hanging on to her dear life.

Matt smiled down at her, and gently kissed her on the forehead, all the while running like a bat from hell. "It's all right, Grace. Fireworks show, that's all."

The kiss made Grace's face blush beet red, that didn't stop her from noticing the Legionary assassin that was at the end of the hallway waiting for them though.

"Matt! Live one straight ahead!"

Without missing a beat, Matt waited for the last possible second before jumping up and drop-kicking the assassin, sending the legionary's body crashing into a nearby wall before crumpling to the ground. The unlikely duo gave out a whoop of cheer, high-fived and sped out the nearby door. They ran as far as they could, up a nearby hill a couple of miles away from the compound. There, Matt gently laid Grace onto the soft sandy terrain before pulling out the detonator and aiming it straight towards the compound.

"Looks like they're still searching the place." Grace observed, "I think they need something to _brighten up_ their situation. Matt, would you kindly?"

The Courier grinned, "My pleasure."

And with a single press of the trigger, the whole outpost erupted. Bright orange flames spewed out of every window and entrance as the numerous explosions ripped through the building. Cracks appeared throughout the exterior before they split apart, tearing down whatever supports the building had left. And with one final, massive groan, the building collapsed, burying anybody who managed to survive the explosion with it.

As the Matt and Grace watched the destruction, Grace could not help but turn to her savior and ask, "So… is this like a common occurrence to you?"

The Courier couldn't help but stare his new friend in embarrassment. "Uh, yeah, usually. Come on with me to the Lucky 38 Casino, I've got a couple of friends that I want you to meet."


	3. Karma Whore

Grace could not take it anymore.

One minute she was injecting med-x into herself because she was bored of standing around and doing nothing in a god forsaken NCR outpost in the middle of nowhere, then all of a sudden her stomach is penetrated by a machete from an invading squad of Legion assassins, then this random and cute idiot shows up, gives her some stims, saves her from said squad of assassins _and_ an army of Legionaries, and finally proceeds to blow her old outpost sky fucking high.

_And he said that stuff like what just happened was a '_daily occurrence_'? _Grace screamed inside her head _who _is_ this guy?_

The duo was currently walking through the Mojave Wasteland to get to the Lucky 38 casino. The trip was mostly a quiet one, with both Courier and NCR soldier traveling in awkward silence, both hoping that it would be a safe and normal trip. Of course we all know how likely _that_ was going to happen.

Grace turned her to get a better look at her savior, who was busy walking and singing "Na na na na na na na na, na na na na na na na, Mattman!" out loud to himself. She couldn't help but notice that he looked really young to be violently butting heads with the likes of Caesar and his loyal army and blowing up entire buildings. Slightly long, black shaggy hair, smooth olive skin that was partially covered with dust, and dried blood in some spots, somewhat muscular yet lanky figure, and a face that glowed with naiveté and kindness. Nothing screamed out killing machine or psychopath to her.

_He could be the poster boy for childhood and friendship... _Grace's thoughts trailed off as she suddenly realized something. _His eyes…_

They were bright green, but the friendliness and warmth that was radiated from the rest of his body weren't present in his eyes at all. Just… experience. His gaze was piercing and deep, filled with death, guilt, and surprisingly remorse. Like he'd seen and done things that would make any normal person keel over from shock, nausea, or trauma.

Then again… was anyone really _normal_ in the wasteland?

Her thoughts were interrupted as Matt loudly cleared his throat "Are you going to keep staring at me with that 'I'm totally evaluating your emotional capacities while simultaneously checking you out' face? Cause' its kinda creepy…"

"Wh-what? I w-wasn't checking you out!" Grace spluttered, trying to feign honesty… and failing miserably. "I was staring off into space and it just so happened to be in your direction!"

Matt frowned, "But you were looking right into my eyes while quietly muttering 'mmmm, I wouldn't mind helping myself to some of that _fine_ piece of-'"

"LIES! It's the desert playing tricks on you!"

"Uhh… I don't think so." Matt shook his head. "Usually when the desert plays tricks on me, it doesn't do it in your voice…"

Running out of options, Grace did the only thing she could do. Randomly point at stuff. "Hey look, Matt! Butterflies!"

"You will be mine, you demons!" The butterfly hating courier said as he brandished a chainsaw that was in his backpack and ran off to the direction that Grace was pointing at, swinging his chainsaw left and right and occasionally shouting "Demons!". Grace sighed in relief, thanked whatever higher power there was that her attractive companion had an IQ of 50, and slowly trailed behind Matt as he continued hunting for the non-existent butterflies.

It wasn't long before the pair arrived at the charred ruins of Nipton. The town that was ravaged by the Legion through an infamously twisted lottery. Everyone in the Mojave Wasteland knew what happened here due to the efforts of the Courier. Though the fires were put out and the bodies moved and buried, the former town still reeked of death and smoke.

Grace crinkled her nose in disgust, "Ugh, this place is so putrid!"

"Here." Matt said, pulling a clean red bandana out of his pocket and handing it to Grace. "Put it on. You never get used to the stench around here."

"Thanks, Matt." Grace said after she wrapped the bandana around her face. Her voice slightly muffled by the fabric. "Hey, you don't have a bandana and _you_ seem fine."

The Courier didn't answer.

As the two walked through the ruined town, they noticed that the smell of death kept getting stronger and stronger. So much that Grace started a gagging a little bit, even with the bandana wrapped tightly around her nose and mouth. Matt however, seemed unaffected and kept a seldom face as he scanned the area for the source of the smell.

"It's kind of fresh." He muttered under his breath.

"It's what? Fresh? What's fresh?"

The Courier pointed at a camp fire site in the other side of the town, "Over there. They must be a week old at least, judging by the smell."

"What's a week old?" Grace asked.

"Why the corpses of course!" Matt answered enthusiastically as he took off towards the camp site.

* * *

><p>Arcade always hated elevators; there was just something about being in an inescapable box that was being held up by wires that were over 200 years old just seemed… unsafe. A bag of groceries on each hand, the doctor patiently waited for the elevator to reach the presidential suite, watching the number of the floors as they appeared on the screen.<p>

_69…_

_69…_

_69…_

_Ding!_

"Matt messed with the elevator buttons again, didn't he?" Arcade sighed as the elevator doors slid open. His words were surprisingly greeted with silence. The suite seemed quiet and lifeless for once. That is, until Veronica burst out a nearby door in hysterics.

"Arcade! Something terrible happened to Boone!" Veronica cried out.

Arcade's eyes widened. "What? Where is he?"

His question was answered by groans that floated out of the room that Veronica just burst out from.

"What happened to him?" Arcade asked as he set the grocery bags on a nearby table.

"Oh…" Veronica said sheepishly, staring at the floor. "Cass, uh… 'introduced' her vampire romance novels to him… and then he started throwing up all over the place…"

Arcade gave her a confused look. "What? Vampire novels? I mean they're stupid sure, but they shouldn't be able to make a grown man vomit."

"Well…" Veronica said, now staring extra hard on the floor. "These are _special_ vampire romance novels…"

"What do you mean by special?"

"It's smut. _Really _hardcore and gay vampire on werewolf smut."

"Oh… well that makes sense."

"Oh don't mind me, you guys. I'm just _vomiting_ out my entrails over here!" Boone angrily yelled from the room.

Arcade and Veronica hurried over to the room to find Boone collapsed on the floor. Smalls puddles of puke of varying colors were scattered around the room. To Arcade's surprise, he saw Cass was lounging on a chair in the farthest corner of the room, away from all the puke, a book titled: _Teenage hot male vampire X Teenage hot male werewolf: The Gayening_ in her hand, and a giant smile on her face. Arcade put two and two together.

"'No, Edvard. We can't do _that_ in here!' Jakeb whimpered." Cass recited out loud gleefully, failing to stifle her laughter. "'As long as I'm with you... _Anything_ is possible' Edvard lustfully replied as he prepared to enter Jakeb's-'"

Boone violently vomiting again interrupted Cass's narration. "So… ugh... _Stupid_!"

Arcade face palmed. "Matt… Where the fuck are you?"

* * *

><p>"Okay, so see how the neck is cut clean through?" Matt asked as he pointed at one of the dead victim's body. "That means that the murderer was seriously strong and used a blade. Probably a machete."<p>

Matt then pointed at two smaller sleeping bags. "And that? Children. Which means that these guys were a family that was probably living in this camp site. I don't know what the killer did with the children but he or she is long gone and the parents are long dead."

Grace stared at him in surprise.

"What?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, but what you did just now was so… genius!" She explained, albeit awkwardly. "And you just don't seem…"

"Smart? Bright? Sharp? Intelligent? Yeah, I get that a lot." Matt replied casually, continuing to survey the bloody scene.

"No that's not what I meant!" she protested.

"Grace, I've heard a lot of people make fun of my intellect hundreds of times, all in different ways and words." He said, his voice calm and cool, if not a little bit cheerful.

He then turned to her and gave her a big grin; the Mojave sun making his pearly whites shine bright. "You don't have to lie to me to avoid hurting my feelings or whatever. I'll still be in love with you no matter what!"

_Don't swoon, don't swoon, don't swoon! _Grace's inner thoughts cried out as her body started to precariously tip left and right. She was totally swooning. _Damn it!_

"I guess we should bury the bodies then." Grace suggested as she tried to change the subject. "They deserve a burial at least, and the town already smells rancid as it is."

Matt nodded solemnly. "Agreed."

As Matt started pulling out a shovel from his backpack and Grace started marking the ground with planks of wood for graves, they started hearing a voice yelling angrily in the distance. This, of course, meant a lot of things in the Mojave Wasteland. Mostly a fiend hopped up on chems toting an energy weapon.

"Grace!" Matt called out assertively.

Grace turned around just in time to catch a 9mm pistol by the handle. "Wow… that could've totally ended badly if I dropped that."

"I take it that you know how to handle that thing?"

"More than you realize." Grace said coolly as she took the safety off the gun, while saying inside her head,_ OMG. That sounded sooo cool!_

Matt un-slung his assault carbine on his back. "Oh good. Cause that gun is so easy to use, physically disabled people tend to master it."

"Oh…" Grace said sadly as her peppiness deflated. Only to be replaced by depression. _Oh yeah, you _sure_ showed him, girl…_

The two waited for the yelling to get closer. Eventually, a figure of a man in leather armor followed closely by a small crowd of people and two small children came into view.

"Look! I told you people already! I'm a goddamn murderer!" The man in leather armor screamed as he pointed at the two bodies that Matt and Grace were about to bury, "You see those dead people? _I_ was the one who murdered them!"

"Oh that's not possible, savior!" An elderly man in the crowd yelled out. "You would never do such a thing!"

"But I did!" The "savior" cried out, clearly getting more and exasperated by the minute.

"Umm, excuse me," Grace said, "What exactly is going on here?"

"Is it a party? Oh boy! I love parties!" Matt said enthusiastically, jumping up and down in excitement.

"Look, I'll make this short and simple." The so-called savior said. "I'm an independent slaver from the east coast, no ties with Caesar's legion by the way; I killed those two people and captured their children. Then one day, a small group of fiends attacked me and I was able to take them down. After I killed them, suddenly this small crowd of people showed up saying that I'm their 'savior' and now they follow me around everywhere!"

"Even the children whose parents I killed are worshipping me!" He added.

"Hmmmm." Matt murmured thoughtfully. "It sounds like you accidentally got some positive karma."

The slaver looked at him in disbelief. "What?"

"It tends to happen a lot around here." Grace explained. "Trust me, there are plenty of 'saviors' and 'messiahs' in the Mojave. When in reality they're just a bunch of criminals who killed a couple of powder gangers or some shit like that"

"Unbelievable…" The slaver muttered as he started to walk away in defeat. The small crowd and children following closely behind him. "I've got to get out of here!"

"Don't leave us, savior!" The children cried out.

"I KILLED YOUR PARENTS, YOU LITTLE SHITS!" The slaver infuriatingly screamed out.

The slaver and his loyal followers disappeared off in the sunset. Leaving Matt and Grace to ponder on the strange events that had just transpired. Well… Grace did most of the pondering, Matt just stood there grinning like an idiot.

"Umm… was that some ironic form of social commentary? Or are we just magnets to weird happenings?" Grace wondered aloud.

Matt just smiled. "I have no idea what you just said!"

Grace sighed and walked over to the bodies of the couple. "Hey, Matt? Got an extra shovel?"

"For you? Always." Matt said cheerfully as he handed her a shovel.

Grace didn't know whether to take that as compliment and blush… or get creeped out.

_Either way, he meant it for me… _Grace thought as a smile tugged at her lips.


End file.
